A staple of the bakery. This type of party has the word cocktail in front of it.

I start with a wire but now travel through space. I deliver swift words to any far place. My first half tells weight, or a message of old. My second half sends a sharp, written fold.

Light, polish, crafts, and balm, Solid and subtle scent in your palm.

It's finer than lace, from a spinner's warm embrace. Soft as a cloud on a breezy day, it whispers gently, come what may.

Clean, refresh, and wear anew. A weekly task that one must do. More, or less, depending beds, Sweet smells pulled over heads.